


you belong on the west coast

by jollypuppet



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Love, M/M, Music, Romance, and arthur's not a hipster he's really really not, this is not a coffeeshop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jollypuppet/pseuds/jollypuppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur wants to score movies and Eames is a cheeky bastard, but really, what's new?</p>
            </blockquote>





	you belong on the west coast

**Author's Note:**

> I need to stop writing about these idiots, I really do.  
> But I'll be honest, this is the last of the random AU ideas I have for them, so I'll quit for a while, maybe go take a vacation, get a massage or something.
> 
> Also, there's a lot of pop culture references in this, and to be honest, I like everything, so all of Arthur's likes and dislikes are all his, not mine, trust me. Except the admiration for Hans Zimmer part, that's definitely me.
> 
> (Also, some of the finer points of a music program at a university might be off, I don't know. But, hey, I gave it the good old college try, end college joke.)

If there's anything you want to know about Arthur Wesley, you can get a basic picture of him by remembering this -- he listens to James Blake and he wears his clothes ironically.

Not to say he's a hipster, because, honestly, making assumptions about a person based on their taste in music or clothing is just _shallow_ and you should be ashamed of yourself. Yeah, sure, maybe the frames of his glasses are a bit too thick, but he just likes the style, and he only wears them when he needs them (and by that, he means _really_ needs them.) Besides, some of his favorite hobbies include playing basketball and wearing baggy jeans, and he quite likes the first two Transformers movies.

Arthur Wesley, despite what the numerous Arctic Monkeys albums he keeps on his shelf might suggest, isn't a hipster. You can lead him to a Björk concert, but you can't make him buy tickets.

Ariadne places a coffee in front of him at the beginning of their Scoring for Silent Films course and he drinks it, even if he slept pretty well the night before (he tends to consider eight o'clock "sleeping in," after spending four years in high school waking up at five-thirty.) She places her chin on the heel of her hand and looks at him.

"You look more bored than usual today." she says, matter-of-fact, and her bracelets jangle a bit against her wrists. Arthur quirks an eyebrow at her, and she smiles in turn. "Wanna skip class tomorrow?"

He scoffs and finally allows himself to smile. "Unlike some people," he replies pointedly, and he gently pushes her hand out from under her chin with his finger, "I actually enjoy this class."  
  
She rolls her eyes and sits back in her chair -- Ariadne seems to be in this permanent state of amusement, like she knows something that nobody else in the universe knows. "Some of us are just more interested in Lady Gaga than Henry Zimmer or whatever."  
  
Arthur can't help but laugh at that. "It's _Hans_ , Ariadne, Hans Zimmer. And he doesn't have anything to do with silent movies, either."

"I know." she says with mock-egotism, and Arthur has to poke her in the side to get her to pay attention as the class starts. She leans over and whispers, "By the way, you're getting coffee tomorrow. I get it with three sugars, nothing else."  
  
_I don't even like coffee that much_ , Arthur thinks as he takes another sip, and the professor starts droning.

\--

Some people, Arthur thinks, find love in coffee shops. He walks into the little café and is pleasantly surprised by the warm colors and quiet music playing from some hidden speaker somewhere, and he wonders if he's one of those people. Maybe his life will be like one of those Target romance novels, where he lays his eyes on the barista, tall and tan and handsome, and it'll be the beginning of a beautiful, torrid story.

"Can I help you?" The barista's name is Nash, and his voice sounds like all of the things Arthur hates thrown into a burlap sack and thrown against a brick wall.

He pays for his coffee and leaves, and figures that all those Target novels are stupid, anyway.

\--

Arthur and Ariadne hold the handle of the black umbrella together, because it's a rather effective way of keeping their hands warm and, even if they aren't dating, they get a kick out of making it look like it.

As they enter the library, Ariadne rubs her feet against the doormat while Arthur collapses the umbrella. "Honestly, though, I don't understand how the guy who did the music for all those Batman movies could have written the music for _Madagascar_."  
  
Arthur shrugs. "He works for Dreamworks, I dunno. Either way, he makes damn good music, you have to admit that."  
  
She waves a hand at him, and their conversation dies down a little bit, in respect for the people cramming for tests in the library's plush armchairs. They end up separating, Ariadne going to the computers to look up sources for her research paper ("It's on the lyrical progression of Nas!" she had exclaimed excitedly, and Arthur had laughed) while Arthur goes hunting for a book on post-romantic film scoring.

And, of course, when he finds it, it's a good two shelves above where he can reach.

He frowns, because _no_ , he's not gonna stand on his toes to try to get at it, because he'd look stupid and it wouldn't even _work_. He glances around for some sort of stepladder that might be lying around to try and get it, but there's nothing but panicking freshmen and an empty Mountain Dew bottle laying on one of the windowsills.

So he goes back to glaring at the stupid book and wondering if he can somehow will it down with the power of his annoyance.

There's the sound of someone chuckling on the other end of the shelf, and he turns his head to see who it is -- probably Dom, because he tends to show up without warning, or maybe even Yusuf, even though he doesn't know Yusuf really well for him to be approached, not with humor, at least -- but he doesn't recognize the face there. All he knows is that the guy's holding the stepladder and that makes him _angry_.

"Sorry about this." the other guy says, mirth obvious in his voice, and the accent makes Arthur even more angry, because now he's intrigued and he really doesn't have the time to be intrigued right now. "I guess I was hogging this. Can you believe the stuff you find on the top shelves of this place? I found a book on home-cooking gluten-free Thai food."  


That, of course, is the kind of thing that makes Arthur laugh, so he does (but only a little bit.) The man doesn't give him the stepladder, but places it in front of the shelf he was looking at instead.

Arthur doesn't miss a beat. "The one on post-romantic film scoring."

"Thanks, love." the stranger says in reply -- it's not sarcastic or mocking, either, which Arthur finds odd, because he's met enough sarcastic people, and mocking people, and sarcastically mocking people to find somebody who's actually considerate an anomaly. He picks out the book and hands it down to Arthur. "Writing a paper or something?"  
  
"Mostly just interested." Arthur says in response, flipping through the first few pages of the book, and the stranger hums understandingly. Arthur looks up. "Do you work here?"  
  
At that, the man scoffs. "Do I look like I listen to Regina Spektor to you?" Arthur only manages to be slightly insulted, partly because that doesn't really make sense, and partly because he kind of likes Regina Spektor.

Still, the man smiles at him and claps him on the shoulder. Arthur lets him walk past, still a little shell-shocked (he's not sure if it's about the Regina Spektor thing or not, but whatever.) "If you're gonna score movies, go a more Hans Zimmer route, there are enough John Williams impostors in this world." After that, though, he's gone.

Arthur smiles, because that sounds like an excellent idea to him.

\--

Ariadne ends up being sick for a few days and doesn't show up for Silent Films, which is pretty much horrible. Arthur ends up alone in the lecture hall, doodling in his notebook and singing quietly under his breath, little lines of _been praying to God, don't know if it's helping or not_ because he feels like it's rude to listen to music in class. Somebody might argue that people literally listen to music through an entire class, hiding headphone wires in sweatshirts and baggy jackets, but still, Arthur's a _good person_ , damn it.

He stops singing, though, when someone slides into Ariadne's seat.

"Didn't know you were in this class, darling." Arthur practically breaks his pencil in half, because it's the stupid Hans Zimmer enthusiast guy from the library, sitting around like he owns the place. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"  
  
Well, at least he's polite.

Arthur shrugs. "That's fine. Ariadne usually sits there, but she's sick."

"Funny how I figured out your friend's name before yours." he says with a grin, and no, Arthur is not _charmed_ , that's just silly. "I didn't get a chance to exchange names with you at the library, though I should have figured you'd be in a class like this. I'm Eames."  
  
And Arthur tries his best not to click his tongue, because a guy like this _would_ be named Eames -- probably his last name, used as a nickname, like he's cooler than everybody in a ten mile radius. Still, it's got a nice sound to it, he has to admit. "Arthur." he replies, and he challenges Eames' smile with his own.

It makes Eames laugh, which Arthur considers a plus. When he gets home that night, he listens to his Regina Spektor albums for longer than he'd like to admit.

\--

Eames sits there until Ariadne returns to class, and then, he just switches to the seat on Arthur's other side. They've gotten relatively well acquainted by then, and Ariadne pouts at Arthur when Eames is introduced.

"You replaced me with a British guy, Arthur." she says, and Eames' laugh is bright. Arthur just hands her the coffee he bought that morning, and she's quick to forgive him then.

"You know," Eames says later, as they're packing up to leave, "I've got an hour until my next class. Are you two doing anything?"  
  
They end up sitting at the warmly-lit little coffee house until they part for their next classes, and Arthur has to listen to Nash take orders for a while, but he figures it's worth it, because Eames' voice is rather nice to listen to in lieu of that.

\--

"I'm kind of," Eames starts, walking slowly alongside Arthur one gray morning, "listless at the moment. You could call me directionless."  


Arthur quirks an eyebrow at him, because _really_ , nobody's at this school without a major. "Eames, you're at a _music school_. You realize your options outside of music are kind of limited here, right?"  
  
He puts his hands up at that. "No, I _know_ that, I know it has something to do with music, but I just haven't settled, I guess." He puts his hands out like they're scales, and Arthur chuckles. "There's film scoring, like with you, and production, like with Ariadne, but then there's performance and songwriting and a whole load of other stuff."  
  
Arthur shrugs. "Just let the decision come when it comes. You're probably better off than me, to be honest. Goals are tricky things."  
  
"How do you figure?"  
  
Arthur takes him by the arm and drags him toward the Composition Building when Eames forgets to take a left and keeps walking straight instead. "An arrow without aim never misses, I guess."

\--

Arthur hates Intro to Lyric Writing more than any of his other classes, mostly because he knows he's never going to need it. He's taking up to fill some sort of vague requirement his career counselor had mentioned in his last email, but the more he writes about how much he loves his hypothetical girlfriend or whatever, the less and less he's enjoying the class at all.

The only plus to it, really, is that Eames is taking it, too. "I've got to widen my horizons." he reasons with Arthur one day, and he figures it's a good enough excuse, if it means he can have someone to talk to.

"Darling," Eames says quietly, tapping his pencil against his notebook, "silver is one of those words that doesn't rhyme with anything, isn't it?"  
  
"Along with month and angst and twelfth." Arthur replies, jotting down composition ideas in the corner of his notebook instead of actually working on his lyrics.

"Damn." Eames mumbles, and erases something on his paper.

\--

Eames, as it turns out, isn't too bad at playing the piano.

When Arthur finds him at the baby grand in the auditorium, Eames gives him a confused sort of smile. "Arthur, love, there's probably dozens of others at this stupid school that can play piano better than I can. You won't find me playing any Vanessa Carlton, I can tell you that now."  
  
Arthur snorts. "That's better than me. I can't do two separate things with my hands at once." He wiggles his fingers for emphasis. "That's why I'm a composer, not a musician."  
  
Eames scoffs, and plays a very simplified version of a melody Arthur vaguely knows. "I heard you singing Sara Bareilles the second time we met, don't try to lie." Arthur can't help but feel a little bit embarrassed, but Eames' smile isn't a mocking one. "Maybe you could be a singer."  
  
"Oh, _no_ , Mr. Eames, I'm not singing along to your piano playing." Arthur says, trying his best not to laugh. "That's just downright cheesy."

Eames rolls his eyes. " _Please_ , Arthur, don't talk to me about cheesy. I know you secretly liked _27 Dresses_."

"I like James Marsden as an actor, is that a crime?"  
  
The other man laughs and makes some quip along the lines of, "In some countries, yes," before Arthur finally gives up and drops his messenger bag and sits on one of the stools nearby the piano. He doesn't sing along, because, like he said, that's cheesy, but he knows the songs Eames plays, even if they're not played very well, and they talk about stupid stuff, which Arthur finds funny.

They discuss the finer plot details of _Signs_ over the simple sounds of Adele songs, and it really shouldn't be as nice as it is, because after all, _Signs_ wasn't really that good of a movie, and Arthur doesn't even like Adele that much.

\--

The first time Eames shows up to his room, it's unexpected, but he lets him and Ariadne in without thinking about it. He does forget, however, that he's listening to Regina Spektor.

"I _knew_ it!" Eames laughs, and Arthur shuts his laptop.

\--

Surprisingly, the professor that teaches the Intro to Lyric Writing course really likes Arthur's work, even if it's riddled with doodles and completely devoid of personality.

_You obviously put a lot of thought into this!_

Eames laughs for longer than Arthur's heard before, leaning his forehead against Arthur's shoulder, and he can't help but laugh a bit, too.

\--

"Songwriting's just not my thing, I guess." Eames says quietly, as to not wake up Ariadne, and he doesn't sound too put-out, so Arthur just eats another piece of popcorn and continues to read the subtitles on the movie they've muted.

"If I ever need a piano player who can do bad covers of Adele songs for a movie," Arthur says in reply, "I'll call you up."  
  
Eames chuckles and throws his arm over Arthur's shoulder, and they stay like that for the rest of the night, until Eames falls asleep resting against Arthur's chest of drawers and Arthur thinks about how that offer wasn't entirely a joke.

\--

When Christmas break rolls around, Ariadne gets on a train headed for Virginia, and Arthur and Eames see her off at the platform. She kisses Arthur on the cheek and punches Eames' shoulder when he tells her to find a boyfriend, and she waves to them as the train rolls away.

A few days later, Arthur's at the airport, seeing Eames off, too.

"You sure you don't want to come, love?" he asks, looking more concerned than Arthur's ever seen him. "My family wouldn't mind having you over, you know."  


He shakes his head. "I'll have time to work on things that aren't lyric projects, for once." He smiles, though he knows it's probably going to be the most boring Christmas break he's had yet. His parents are in the Bahamas, and he's pretty sure only a handful of other students are staying for the break, so things will be quiet. "I'll Skype you, though, okay?"  
  
Eames hugs him then, open and warm, and Arthur hugs him back. "I wouldn't forgive you if you didn't."

\--

Two nights after Ariadne and Eames leave, Arthur gets a knock on the door of his room, and is wary to open it, at first.

He's surprised to find Dom Cobb and Mal standing in the hall, and he welcomes them in without hesitation, because they brought cookies, from the looks of it, and it's better than being alone.

\--

Ariadne and Eames video chat with him on Christmas Eve, laughing about stupid things and making fun of their professors, talking about their families (or, in Arthur's case, Dom and Mal) and making promises of presents for each other when they return.

It's cold the next morning, but he wakes up to a text from Eames that just says _Happy Christmas, love_ and he figures the cold isn't all that bad.

\--

Eames shows up back in the States a full two days before Ariadne, and Arthur is waiting at the airport for him when he arrives. The hug that Arthur gets met with is like the one he'd gotten when Eames had left, but more excited -- to the point that he gets lifted off the ground in the middle of the airport.

"You're an idiot." he laughs, and Eames puts him down once he's happy enough with the greeting. His face looks a bit brighter, like spending time with his family has woken him up a little bit more, and Arthur likes the change.

Eames shrugs it off. "I know you're only mean because you love me, pet." he says, and Arthur can't help but smile. Eames goes rummaging through his bag and pulls out a long, thin box and hands it to Arthur. "My dad ended up grabbing this off of the Internet, but I thought you'd like it more than me."  
  
"Oh, that's classy." Arthur says, and Eames punches his shoulder softly. He opens the box and pulls a rolled up piece of paper out of it -- a poster, by the looks of it, and when he rolls it out, it's for _The Pirates of the Caribbean_.

Eames comes around to stand behind Arthur. "Look in the corner there."

Arthur be damned, there's Hans Zimmer's signature.

"You're an asshole." he says, but he's laughing, and Eames hugs him again and says he's glad to be back.

\--

"You never told me what you were trying to write." Arthur says into the dark that night, because Eames is staying over for the next two nights until Ariadne's home, mostly for the sake of catching up and alleviating Arthur of some of his loneliness. "When you were trying to rhyme something with silver."  
  
Eames laughs, and he rolls over on the little makeshift bed he's formed on Arthur's floor. "I believe the line was something like... _Cold-blue thoughts and a heart of solid silver_. It was stupid, now that I think about it."

Arthur shrugs. "I think it sounds nice."  
  
Eames hesitates, suddenly, and when he speaks again, Arthur's a bit surprised by what he says. Not horribly so, but enough to give him pause.

"Well, I'm glad. It was about you, after all."  
  
He kisses Eames for the first time, that night, and neither of them get any sleep. They stay up, and listen to Arthur's Arctic Monkeys albums, and quietly debate whether or not Florence & the Machine could be considered hipster, and they kiss some more, of course, but he's saving that bit for when he gets back to the lyric writing class.

\--

Eames is spectacularly bright in the morning, and he asks Arthur if he wants him to grab coffee.

"It's freezing outside." Arthur objects, and, as if to emphasize his point, he wraps a blanket tighter around his shoulders. He's not getting out of bed, if he can help it. "I don't even like coffee all that much, to be honest with you."  
  
Eames' shoulders sag with relief, all of a sudden. "Oh, thank God, that Nash kid was giving me the hairy eyeball every time I came in and ordered more than one thing. Want to watch _Armageddon_ instead?"  
  
Arthur grins. "I hate that movie."  
  
In response, Eames just leans down and kisses him, and Arthur's happy to reciprocate. "I know." Eames replies, matter-of-fact, and after slipping in the DVD, he sits next to Arthur on the bed and slings an arm around him, and Arthur can't even think of the cold.

They go back to kissing maybe a quarter way through the movie, and they really only stop for more than a few minutes when they get to the part with the Aerosmith song and can't keep themselves from laughing.

\--

When Ariadne gets back, it's one of the first things Arthur tells her.

She hugs him and gleefully exclaims, "I _knew_ it!"  
  
\--

They sit in the auditorium together sometimes, with Arthur scribbling notes about his compositions down in his notebook while Eames plays songs he knows the general tunes to.

"So, yesterday was Erin McCarley, and the day before that was Billy Joel." Arthur says as he flips open his notes one day. "What's on your mind today, Mr. Eames?"

Eames shrugs, and he rolls his shoulders as he sits down at the keys. "I don't know." he replies, and his fingers gently hit a few of the keys before starting a general melody. "Somebody I've come to respect greatly once told me that an arrow without aim never misses."

Arthur smiles at that, and he doesn't mention how he recognizes the song Eames is playing. He does, however, have the common decency to wait until he's back in his room to start singing the words to Regina Spektor's _Blue Lips_ , but he has a feeling that Eames probably knows, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> The Sara Bareilles song that Arthur's apparently a fan of is [Many the Miles](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwg1TpxkSnA).
> 
> And the Regina Spektor song that Eames plays at the end is [really rather wonderful](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccZuKOTb6ug).


End file.
